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Thursday, April 30, 2015

Baltimore Police Van - 1986

This is an excerpt
from “It’s Only Me”, a memoir I wrote back in 2009. It concerns my time in ta
Police Van in Baltimore. With that subject being so much in the news this past
week I thought I would share my own experience with the subject.

To begin with I had no idea what "minimum wage"
was. It had been awhile since I made $2.50 an hour in the paint factory, and
being a Merchant Marine had spoiled me in that regard. It was now 11 years
later and the minimum wage was only $3.35 per hour! So I started at a Royal
Farms Convenience Store as a clerk, working nights and waiting for a better job
to rear its head. It took 5 days.

The donut delivery guy came every evening at 7PM and the
donuts were fresh. They were made at Donut Delite on the site of the present
day Camden Yard Stadium in Baltimore. We were horizontal to Babe Ruth's
birthplace. Nearby was where the circus train unloaded the elephants each year
and I would re-arrange my whole day to go and see them walk to the Arena.

Anyway, back to the donut guy. He was paying $5 an hour
for a 6 hour day which beat what I was making in 8 hours. So I got hired on and
assigned to a route that took me through 3 counties. It was at this job that I
learned all the back roads of the adjacent counties. I had a lot of freedom and
all the donuts I could eat. It was 7 days a week with no holidays off.

Donnie Laws was the boss. He owned several routes and had
vans for each one. They were specially fitted with racks for the donut trays to
slide in and out easily. My job was to deliver the fresh donuts and remove the
"day olds." Everything was done by Invoice, so we carried no cash.

Each day at 2 PM I would load up at Donut Delite and head
out for my deliveries. Donnie was the type of guy who would think nothing of
sending you out in a truck with no gas and a broken gas gauge. This was a
constant source of irritation. Well; that and the fact that he constantly
referred to me as "that New York Jew boy" behind my back.

At the end of each day I would return the "day
old" donuts to a trash bin located outside Donut Delite and across Martin
Luther King Blvd. from the "projects." The kids who lived there had
drug addicted parents and didn't get much in the way of treats. So each evening
when I returned there was a crowd of kids waiting to ask for some of the
"day olds." I would always give some away and throw the damaged ones
in the trash bin. This bin would get picked up every two days and transported
to the rail yard where it was shipped out to somewhere as "hog feed."
When Donnie would catch me giving donuts away he would climb up on the dumpster
and piss all over everything so that the kids would not get any treats. This
was yet another sore point between us.

I was paid each Friday with a personal check- I was
collecting Unemployment out of New York at the time. One Friday I was forewarned
by another driver that Donnie was going to lay me off the following week on
Wednesday. His brother in law needed the job. Then he was going to stiff me for
the 3 days pay, knowing that I couldn't file a complaint due to the
Unemployment issue. He was right about that, but there are other ways to skin a
cat.

Taking his check over to his bank I cashed it. Getting
back in the van I thought to myself, "How can I hurt this guy?"
Inspiration came in a flash as I realized that I had about $1,500 worth of
fresh donuts. And I was now also one day AHEAD in pay. Driving around in the
city a bit I noticed that there were a lot of people sitting out on porches
after the long winter had finally broken. It was now late April.

I pulled the truck up on a street that ran adjacent to
North Avenue, in one of the poorer areas of the city. Stepping out into the
early spring sun I shouted out, "Donuts, free donuts, fresh and
warm!"

It was like a scene out of one of those jungle movies
where the natives swamp the plane with arms outstretched for food. The trays
were flying out faster than I could count and people were shoving bills in my
hand, although I had not asked for any money!

Within minutes the van was stripped bare of donuts and I
had to jump back in and race off. The rear doors were swinging wildly to shouts
of, "Jack it up- get the wheels!"

I now had about $60 and 2 trays of donuts that I had
stashed up front. I took these to Keiths Cub Scout Troop which was meeting
nearby at the Harborplace that day. I was a hero to the kids as I handed out
the donuts. I then parked the truck outside Donnie’s as usual, placing the keys
in his mailbox and got in my car and drove home.

The next morning the phone rang and it was Donnie. He
wanted to know where the donuts were. I feigned ignorance and then he let fly
with what a donut stealing Jew boy I was and how he was gonna get me. I told
him that I had no idea what he was talking about and not to call me anymore. I
hung up, thinking that was the end of it. Sometimes you can be so wrong...

2 weeks later, on Mother’s day, I was out front washing
the car when a police car passed up and then down the street in front of our
house. This was very unusual and should have clued me in, but it didn't.

Stepping out of the patrol car I was approached by an
officer who asked me if I was "Bob" Williams. This should also have
clued me in as everyone ashore called me Robert. But I answered yes and then
was asked to step away from my vehicle. This guy was going to cuff me for
something but I had no idea what! He explained that Donnie had filed a
complaint and though the warrant was not in the officer’s possession he had the
right to detain me while the warrant was delivered. I was able to talk him out
of doing the handcuffs in front of the neighbors and kids and then got in the
back of the car and was taken away. Around the corner he stopped and handcuffed
me.

We arrived at the local county station house to await the
warrant. I was placed in a common holding area which had 6 bunks and 7 inmates-
my addition bought the total to 8. There was a phone, which I was not allowed
to use, on the wall just outside of the cell. It was very strange being locked
up but I knew that things would work out. It was really a question of how long
I was going to be here. To make it worse, I was scheduled to start working on a
horse farm in Elkridge the next morning at 8 AM. So I was a little worried
about making it there on time. It was now 7 PM on Sunday.

I was the only white prisoner and thinking of the movie
"Hard Times" with Gene Wilder and Richard Pryor; particularly the
"I'm bad" scene. Just then the biggest black guy in there comes up to
me and asks, "What'd you do?" I replied that I had stolen some
donuts. This produced some laughter and a scornful "We got us a creampuff
motherfucker!" There were now some suggestions being tossed about
concerning what could be done with a creampuff when the oldest guy in there,
who had been snoozing on heroin, came to life. He explained that "The
white boy ain't no fool- them donuts be worth duckies!" Then he went back
to sleep.

The dynamics immediately changed with everyone wanting to
know how the donut thing worked and could they get in on it? I explained that
Donnie went to the Royal Farms store on Security Blvd and Forest Park Drive
every night at 7 PM. I also added that he carried a lot of cash. You can
imagine my joy when 3 weeks later Donnie was beaten and robbed at that location
by a "big black guy."

Now that we were all friends they showed me how to use
the phone. I had been calling out "Guard, Guard" and alternating that
with "Officer, Officer" to no avail. The big black guy started to
laugh and said, "Man, you new to this- you gotta do this to get the
phone." He took his shoe of and started beating it against the wall while
shouting "MOTHERFUCKER!!!" loudly over and over. This bought several
guards. My new friend told the guard that "White bread needs to use the
phone." The receiver was passed through the bars to me and the guard
dialed O for Operator, instructing me to leave the receiver dangling when I was
through. Prison Etiquette 101.

I called Sue, who was very upset, and explained that I
would undoubtedly be late that night so don't wait up. I would call her when I
knew something.

Shortly after this call the Warrant arrived and I was
transported, again in handcuffs, to a Paddy Wagon and driven down to Baltimore
City and the Southwest Precinct. This was a very old jail on Ostend Street
which has since been razed. I was placed in a private cell next door to the
only other prisoner that day- a drunk who had been urinating in public- at
Harborplace on Mother’s Day- in full view of everyone there. He had been
arrested by a female officer and was highly intoxicated and pissed off. So it
was going to be a lonely night.

Around 1 AM on Monday morning I heard the cell block gate
open and someone was at the cell next to mine asking the drunk some questions.
He began by introducing himself as the "Pretrial Release Officer." I
could tell by his voice that he was black and educated. He began asking the
other prisoner questions, like his name and contact info. For every question asked
he received a scathing racist reply. For instance, to the question "What
is your address?" he replied, "I ain't telling nothing to no nigger
so he can go up my house and rob it." The Pretrial Release Officer went
from question to question without pause and never reacted to the abuse being
heaped upon him.

When he came to my cell I was on my feet, and at attention. I answered everything with "Yes,
sir." This really surprised him and he started to leaf through my charging
documents. He looked at me and asked for some contact info. I gave him Sue's
number and address and told him he could also call Military Sealift Command in
Bayonne, New Jersey to verify my identity. Although I was no longer an employee
my security clearance was valid for 2 more years and I figured it couldn't
hurt. He was impressed with my bearing as well as my response. He told me that
the warrant should never have been issued as it didn't satisfy the “who, what,
when, where and why” required by the law. He could not dismiss the Warrant but
could get me out without bail if my responses were all correct and could be
verified at this hour. He left promising to return shortly.

About an hour later he came back with a guard and my cell
was unlocked. I was taken to the Magistrates Office where I was told that I had
been unjustly confined but that I still needed to go to trial. Advising me to
seek counsel I was then released at 3 AM.